Team Temptation
by Shhasow
Summary: A collection of drabbles with King Jonathan and Lady Knight Keladry.  Warning: The first chapter is all PG and under.  The second chapter is everything PG-13 and up.
1. Sweet Temptation

Note: All of these are unconnected drabbles, from G to PG. Enjoy.

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><p><strong>Intelligence of Snow<strong>  
>Rating: G<br>Summary: Snow is a funny thing.

Snow is a funny thing.

It falls and drifts by no whim of its own, being at the mercies of the wind. Each snowflake is unique, but together they are indistinguishable.

Snow has no eyes to see or ears to hear, but somehow snow feels. This is a scientific fact, for the crystals in each snowflake change depending on their environment. When surrounded by love and kindness, the crystals grow and glow, making new connections and shining brightly. When surrounded by hatred, snow crystals shrink and their light from within dims to near darkness.

Of course, such changes go unnoticed unless seen from a very close perspective, but any outsider who observed the two figures standing alone during the soft snowfall, might well hazard a guess that the snow crystals were glowing and altering into magnificent spires, prompted by the love emanating from them.

The taller figure reaches out with a slightly-trembling hand and brushes a lock of hair behind the woman's ear. She catches his hand before he withdraws and interlaces their fingers together.

"Are you sure you're ready?" whispers the woman.

"Undoubtedly." He swallows and cups her cheek with his other hand. "How could I not be, with you at my side?"

Yes, one might be able to see a faint nimbus of light around the pair as the king of Tortall and the only lady knight walks hand in hand, bodies touching, heads leaning together, love and devotion in every motion.

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><p><strong>Moonlight<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary:Kel watches Jon at night.

The soft moonlight trickled through the thin curtain, blurring the hard edges of the man on the bed.

Kel, propped up on one scarred forearm, studied the kingly profile of the king. With one gentle hand, she traced his face with feather-light touches. She started at his brow, down his aquiline nose, and stopped briefly to trace his lips. They softened at her touch and curled into a smile.

Jon's brilliant blue eyes opened slowly, but with a fire that reached into Kel's chest and spread throughout her body, which certainly knew by now what followed that _look_.

His eyes never left hers, but burned brighter as he opened his lips just far enough to capture her fingertip.

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><p><strong>Constellation<strong>  
>Rating: G<br>Summary:Jon and Kel stargaze.

Kel sighed in contentment and could not resist the urge to squirm closer to the heat-producing body. Jon glanced down at her, smiling. He wrapped his large arm around her shoulders, pulling her snugly against himself, and the two shared a close, warm kiss that spoke of years of companionship and the slow fire of true long-lasting love.

They glanced up at the star-studded sky.

"Did I ever tell you about Faithful?" he asked softly as he leaned his head on her hair. She only responded with a faint shake of her head, too comfortable even to speak.

Jon conveyed the story of Alanna's mysterious cat as he gestured towards the constellations that glittered above them like precious stones, particularly One constellation, the Cat, which sat at the feet of the Goddess,

Kel looked up with wonderment, and the pair solemnly greeted the Cat. The pair of stars that made up its eyes seemed to twinkle a faint violet as they welcomed an old friend and a new.

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><p><strong>Scarred<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: Jon can't sleep at night.

"Why do you watch me when I'm asleep?"

Jon's hand paused in its delicate feather-light exploration of Kel's face, still relaxed and eyes half-lidded as she rose from sleep. He said nothing.

"I won't leave you."

"Won't you?"

"Never."

His hand continued its journey down her chin and along her neck. "Thayet said the same."

"I'm not your dead wife."

Jon winced and settled his hand along the curve of her hip, thumb making slow circles around the gentle bump.

"Besides, I love you too much.

Jon's fingers stilled and his entire body went rigid. "You know I can't give you that." The words escaped from a numb mouth. They choked him.

"I know." Kel's voice was even. Accepting, not hopeful, saddened, or resigned. She knew better than to wish or hope for more from the scarred man scared to give his heart once more to a fragile human. People could get hurt, after all, bruised broken and die, leaving the lover bereft of a heart, only an eternal aching void of emptiness.

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><p><strong>Exile<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: Kel has had enough.

Kel hate herself, that she furtively searches for his presence whenever he's nearby, that her ears strain for the deep timbre of his voice, that when she is near him her heart pounds and when she is away a lump sits heavy in her throat.

She hates herself because she can't hate Jon. He does nothing to encourage her. He hardly knows she exists outside of her status as a knight of his realm. A useful sort of person, certainly, but no more.

Kel hates that if she were to die, he'd feel a blithe sadness that a loyal knight had passed, but if he were to die, it would be as if her very heart were ripped from her chest and trampled upon by all the stables warhorses.

Therefore she requests a personal exile back to New Haven, where Kel hopes she will remain until this ill-conceived, ill-advised, misguided, passionate longing either ceases or until she gains mastery over it.

Kel expects it to be a _long_ exile.

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><p><strong>Venerate<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary**: **Kel muses on the difference between the king and the emperor.

Kel had been in the Islands long enough to pick up many characteristics of the Yamanis. She had lived there since she was four, after all. Most of the customs seemed as natural as breathing, now, but one that had always made her wary was how they idealized the Emperor.

No, not idealized. It was more than that; they venerated him. Literally and figuratively, he could do no wrong, not even when he ordered the beheading of an entire household over one man's crime.

So when Kel returned to her native home, Tortall, she was wary of the king. Kings and emperors are nearly the same after all. Kel watched King Jonathan. She watched him carefully, and gradually came to the disturbing, yet relieving conclusion that he was not like the semi-divine Yamani Emperor. He was loved, certainly, but not by all. He certainly was not venerated.

He wielded tremendous power and influence, yes, but he was just a man.

Only human.

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><p><strong>Palpable<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: The tension is thick.

Kel shivered when she felt the weight of his gaze upon her again.

What did it mean that the king kept staring at her so? She fidgeted with the low neckline of her gown and then the gold necklace that draped around her neck.

Her eyes slid back to his, then sank demurely, like a delicate court coquette, which was incredibly galling because that was her complete opposite.

Kel couldn't help it. The tension in the air was palpable, so thick that it was a physical presence and she couldn't help but wonder how no one else felt it. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe, and knew that the king's eyes rested on her form again.

What did it mean? What did he want?

The questions drove her mad, and like an overwhelmed youth at his first battle, she fled the room. The weight of those blue eyes never left her until she reached her rooms, panting with more than exertion.

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><p><strong>Irrefutable<strong>  
>Rating: PG:<br>Summary:Kel can't be sure. Oh wait, yes she can.

This was it.

This was the final test.

Kel stood outside the king's office door and stowed the folder of reports from Raoul under one arm as she wiped her sweaty palms on her breeches. She smoothed her tunic, took a deep breath, and strode in.

"Good morning, sire," she said cheerfully to the king, bent over his paperwork even so early. He glanced up at her and smiled.

"Good morning, Keladry. You already know what I'm going to say, so I shall merely ask what number this makes."

Kel shoved her flip-flopping traitorous heart away from her throat so she could answer normally, as if she were unaffected. "I believe this would be around two hundred and fifty, sire, but I'm afraid it doesn't truly count until you ask." Her traitorous mind was in tandem with her heart, and murmured that she was fooling herself; this was number two hundred sixty seven and she bloody well knew it.

Jon chuckled. "Very well. Keladry, you have my permission to use my given name. I have no doubt that you will continue to thank me politely and ignore my request as always."

"But does it count unless I say it?" Kel grinned.

"Out, away with you, impertinent knight!" Jon flicked one long hand at her. "You already know my answer."

Kel bowed, called farewell with one wicked 'sire,' and left quickly, only to lean against his door. She panted, as if to catch her breath, and wiped her sweating forehead with a shaking hand. This morning's banter had proved, as it had each previous morning, what was completely irrefutable. She was in love with Jon.

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><p><strong>Idiosyncracies<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: A week can be a lot of time.

In one week of marriage, Kel had learned more about her husband Jon than in a year of formal courtship.

She learned how every morning he would spend thirty minutes grooming just his beard, how he imbued the oils and soaps for his hair with his own Gift, how he worried and fretted over each gray hair and took vindictive pleasure in plucking them out or dying them to an inch of their lives.

Kel learned how Jon found it difficult to fall asleep at night, how his duties and responsibilities weighed on him so heavily that many nights he woke up in a flurry, suddenly positive that he'd forgotten some such vital task. Other nights, he whimpered in his sleep over some terrible memory. It was a coin's toss whether he dreams of the Chamber, or the death of his first wife and three of his children in the midst of an immortal attack on the palace.

She learned how he was fiercely independent when it came to choosing his wardrobe for each day, and how he always took the initiative to straighten the bed-covers in the morning, yet the concept of not tossing his worn clothes in one dirty pile baffled him. They always disappeared, anyway. Jon insisted it was magic.

So it was, after a week's worth of marriage to Jon, that Kel loved him more fiercely than ever, due to his idiosyncrasies and not in spite of them. Kel couldn't wait for the next week, and the next, and all the weeks of their lives together.

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><p><strong>Sword<strong>  
>Rating: PG<p>

Summary: Kel comments on Jon's new weapon. Rating for innuendo.

"I hear you have a new sword."

Jon glanced up at the quiet voice that contained a hint of a mischievous drawl. Unknown to him, his expression lightened when he saw the speaker.

"Keladry," he said with pleasure. "You're back already."

She nodded; her latest stint in the North had been completed earlier than expected. The first thing she did after she arrived was to visit her friend. Kel grabbed a seat. "The Scanrans have decided that they are much easier targets then us. Much more infighting. Can I see your sword?"

Jon unbuckled it from his belt and handed it over. Kel unsheathed it with a quiet _hiss_of high-quality metal and raised an eyebrow as she inspected it.

"It's a bit longer than usual," she noted.

"I've had longer," Jon said dismissively.

Kel coughed. "Of that, I'm sure." She hefted it in two hands. "It's got a bit of weight to it; I hope you know how to control it, that it isn't too big."

Jon frowned just slightly. "It's hardly a large sword, Kel. What are you getting after?"

She chuckled. "Hard. Large. I'm sure it'll be more than adequate, once you get some experience. First-times are always painful."

Jon flushed. "Really, Kel. Channeling Gary, are you?"

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><p><strong>Race<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: Jon and Kel are in a race, as Gary discovers.

The prime minister of Tortall ambled by the king's open door. Without glancing inside, he called out, "Hey Jon."

At the response, "Go away, Gary," well, such an invitation could scarcely be rejected. Gary poked his head inside the door and frowned in confusion at seeing Jon intently focused on a slender book, his eyes rapidly bouncing back and forth. Gary scoffed - no way could Jon be reading so quickly - and peered at the title.

"_Vindication of the Rights of the Common? _Rather dry and verbose for your usual tastes."

Jon never looked away as he growled, "Not now, Gary. Go away."

Gary raised an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. If Jon had looked up, he would have recognizaed his minister's 'stubborn pose,' the one he used when he thought the king was being particularly 'thick-headed.' "Not until you tell me why," he threatened.

"I have to finish this." Jon punched at the tiny handwriting with a sharp jab.

"It's hardly enthralling reading," Gary drawled.

Jon tossed a quill on his page and threw down the book on his desk. It was perfectly clear that he'd get no further until he satisfied his former-friend's insatiable curiosity. "I have to finish before Kel," he said, grumpily.

"If I'm not mistaken, you've had that book for over three days. I caught you reading it under the table at dinner."

"I've been _busy_, but any moment now, _she's_going-"

Kel strolled in, a breezy smile on her face. She eyed the closed volume on his desk and her grin faltered just slightly. "Finished yet?" she said doubtfully.

"No." Jon's face was a stone.

"Oh." Kel's smile reappeared and she said breezily, "I suppose that means I've won yet again."

"I had things to do. _Kingly _things."

Kel patted him on the shoulder, much to Gary's amusement. "Of course you did, Jon."

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><p><strong>Sparrows<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: Jon tries to make friends with the sparrows. Rating for a few bad words.

The soberly dressed bird eyes him with a curious black eye.

A trembling finger stretches out, waving invitingly, hoping this this time, maybe just once, the bird might-

Nope. The sparrow chortles and chirps and pecks him sharply before flitting away to another branch.

Jon glares at the retreating bird as it huddles next to a friend. He rubs the red mark on his finger and scowls.

Why did Keladry's birds hate him so much?

Ever since he and Kel started courting, her damn birds took every opportunity to chirp at him - not a pleasant 'hello!' either - to empty their bowels on him - which was less of a bother now that he had a cleaning charm, but that meeting with the Yamani ambassador had been humiliating when he hadn't known about the white smear on the back of his tunic - or to simply ignore him.

Jon likes that last option the best, but unfortunately, it's not enough. The birds, nasty pecking little bastards that they are, come with Keladry. As does her foul-tempered recalcitrant gelding, but that beast has less mobility than do the dung-bombing sparrows.

Not even food softens their hostile stance towards the monarch. Not even cherries.

He shakes a fist at the nearest brown-garbed sparrow, who tilts its head and chirps. Innocently.

"Jon?" came a concerned voice. Jon whirls around to see Kel, who had caught him in the act of threatening little defenseless birds. He feels absurdly ashamed, even though they deserve it.

"Just making friends," he says feebly, not sure if Kel will buy it, but thankfully her eyes soften and she smiles a smile that warms his heart and he remembers why he loves her even though she has evil birds. He never forgets it, even when the one with devilishly-good aim gets him in his hair.

She comes to him and they open their arms to come together. Kel buries her face into Jon's shoulder, and he breathes in the scent of her hair and rests his chin on it, content.

He peeks one eye open to see the flock of flying rats ruffling their feathers and glaring evilly.

Jon flips them off.

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><p><strong>Hands<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary:Kel contemplates hands.

Kel doesn't like her hands. They are strong, yes, but they are too large even if they are perfect for holding a sword or a glaive or a lance. They are littered with scars, some deeper than others, most courtesy of one foul-tempered griffin. The fingers are blunt, not tapering, and trained to be powerful, not precise. Her years of handling weapons have served to build up calluses hard enough to withstand the constant abuse. She worries that they are no longer sensitive.

Yet Kel shivers at the breath that dances over them, the small puff of air heralding the arrival of a soft mouth as Jon gently kisses each small white line and every rough callus and the tip of all fingers. As his hand rises to cradle hers, Kel sees similar scars from years of swordplay and she feels the same patches of callouses as she has. She cannot dislike her hands, not anymore, not if his are the same.

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><p><strong>Cage<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: Jon realizes that he's at fault, but can do nothing to change it.

Jon winced slightly as Kel looked through him, as if he weren't visible at all, even though he had just dismissed an adviser's meeting where she had been quite vocal.

He remained in his chair, busying his hands by shuffling papers. When that had continued for too long, he simply fiddled with a pen.

Jon knew he was in the wrong. That was the worst part about this entire mess; he had no one to blame but himself, and he knew that until he made the first conciliatory gesture, this icy impasse would remain.

Yet whenever he turned to Kel with an oft-practiced apology, the words turned to dust in his throat, and she simply turned away impassively, though Jon _knew_that their separation hurt her as much as it hurt himself.

Yet whenever he set down pen to paper to write out the words that might heal this gap, the ink dried in his pen before he could get out more than a single stroke. Jon was left speechless, wordless.

Perhaps it was pride, an innate disdain for admitting fault and failure, exacerbated by his years of kingship where he had to be correct and accurate and perfect at every moment. Whatever the cause, he could not break away from his prescribed path.

So he hardened himself in her absence, convincing himself that what was done was done, that what had happened was meant to be, and in her presence, all of those barriers fell apart with a single distant look from Kel, and he was left defenseless. Jon was trapped in a cage of his own making, and hers.

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><p><strong>Pottery<strong>  
>Rating: G<br>Summary: There exists a plate emblazoned with two proud figures.

The small clump of students somehow managed to be chaotic, even though they were sharply managed by haggard-looking irritated teachers and parents, half of whom simply repeated in more or less monotone tones, "No, you can't touch that. Don't touch that at all. Or that."

One little girl stood slightly apart from the others. She gazed solemnly into the glass boxes that held bits of ancient history emblazoned on reddish pottery. Most of the markings were in black, of men and women and fantastical beasts.

There was one display hidden towards a corner, and she slipped away from her bored classmates to study it.

The case held a large clay plate, which was covered much like the others, but this one was fractured in a hundred different places. She tried to consider how much time and work was spent in putting it back together, but gave up.

There were two figures on the plate, both sitting on simple thrones. The man held a jewel in one hand, and the woman held a spear of some kind, and their free hands clasped the other's. The little girl's breath fogged the glass as she printed a picture in her mind of the two people. She thought they must have loved each other very much, as their bodies were painted proudly straight, but tilted slightly towards the other as if defying the painter.

The man had a hint of color in his eyes. If she squinted, the girl thought it might be blue. The woman stared at her with eyes that were at once direct and kind.

The explanatory card read simply: _King Jonathan and Queen Keladry, monarchs of an ancient civilization. Origin: Unknown. Time: Unknown._

"Kel, let's go," said the exasperated voice of her twin brother. "They're going to leave us."

Kel hesitated as she left with Jon, her body half-turned towards the two lovers on the plate, one arm raised in a farewell.


	2. Falling to Temptation

Note: All of these drabbles are PG-13 to R. Read at your own caution.

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><p><strong>Fever Dream<strong>

Rating: R  
>Summary:Fast and silent. Rating for sex.<p>

Kel and the king caught each other's eyes over dinner, then quickly turned to chat cheerfully with others. Signal sent and received.

They met as always, in a dark dusty hallway in the dead of night. Sometimes the moon glared through a nearby window. More often, they found a corner.

There was nothing romantic about it as Jon unfastened his breeches and Kel shoved up her dress and he took her against the wall. They came together, fitting snugly, moving rapidly, a need being fulfilled that neither had known had ever existed.

His hand clamped down on her mouth as she tightened around him. Hers could not return the favor, clasped as they were around his neck, but Jon stifled his moan into her shoulder.

Nothing was ever said. Nothing need ever be said. Perhaps, if they remained silent, they could convince themselves it was a fever-dream, a wordless need that, being never spoken, was never realized.

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><p><strong>In the Dark of Night<strong>

Rating: R  
>Summary: A midnight assignation. Rating for implied sex.<p>

He crept to her door in the dark of night.

She knew to expect the quiet stuttering creak of the door as it opened slowly, slowly.

It was a trifling matter for him to escape his rooms without notice. He was highly Gifted, after all, and eyes could be persuaded to look elsewhere.

They did not speak of what they shared. How could they?

It was nothing more than a few frantic movements stolen from a few stressful anxious days interspersed between long periods of longing, loneliness, and lust.

He betrayed his vows.

She betrayed her honor.

Both meant more to them than nearly anything, yet the stolen moments in the dark, the whispered longing echoes that floated in the room, made it worthwhile.

Neither could abscond from their duties, for neither was capable of even considering the idea, yet neither could they contemplate the loss of their unnameable unity of emotion and want and _need_.

And so as the sun began to chase away the darkness, the King left the bed of the Lady Knight.

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><p><strong>Playing Pretend<strong>

Rating: R  
>Summary: Kel gets a substitute for who she really needs. Rating for angsty!sex. Kel is over 18, even though not explicitly stated.<p>

It was always quick, demanded at any moment and swiftly fulfilled. There were many unused rooms in the Royal Palace, after all, and by now, they both knew many of them intimately.

It was fast and dirty, lasting long enough for mutual pleasure, a few stilted sighs and moans behind clenched teeth as they rebelled.

He rebelled against his preordained destiny.

She rebelled against herself.

He felt guilty that he used her.

She knew that she used him.

It was always she who initiated their frantic trysts. She ambushed him in the empty courtyard, in his rooms, or a vacant corridor with convenient nooks.

Whenever they each returned from their knightly duties, they found in each other a quick release. There were no words of love or devotion or commitment.

He was bound to a state marriage.

She had no illusions or desire for a noble wedding.

They took their release where they could, and each choked down their lingering shame.

With her eyes half-closed, she easily transplanted his coal black hair and sapphire eyes onto another's face.

There was no way to have who she wanted, who she desperately needed. This frenetic affair was a poor substitute, a brief relief to the burning ache that could never be healed unless they both betrayed their very principles.

It could never happen, so she made do with clandestine trysts and a poor substitute who made too much noise.

Kel preferred when Roald was silent.

It was easier to pretend that way, pretend that he was the Conte she needed so desperately, Jonathan.

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><p><strong>Strange Bedfellows<strong>

Rating: PG-13. I think.

Summary: Jon's got everything. Kel's pretty happy too. Rating for implied sex.

To Jon, life was good. More than good, it was excellent, spectacular, nonpareil. He ruled over a time of peace (finally), he had a healthy heir who was on his way to producing his own brood of heirs and spares, he was in the peak of health, and he had a beautiful devoted wife in Thayet.

And, of course, he couldn't forget his mistress, the strong, determined, courageous Keladry, who made him remember what it was like to be full of youthful vigor.

He felt the ache in his muscles and grinned lustfully. _Definitely _vigor. In fact, so vigorous that his needs must be filled immediately.

Jon slipped into a side passage and made his way to Kel's rooms. He knocked their secret knock, but when she didn't respond, Jon grumbled. He supposed Thayet would have to do, but she was always more grumpy in the middle of the day. It wasn't as if he interrupted anything that important.

Oddly enough, Thayet's chambers were empty as well. Frowning, Jon headed to his own rooms, thinking that perhaps one of them were there.

When he arrived, nothing was out of place except for one extra bit of paper that he didn't remember leaving on his night-stand.

As Jon read the neat handwriting, he grew more and more horrified, and when he was done, he sat disbelievingly on his bed and the paper slipped from his hands to land gently on the floor.

_Dear Jon,_

_By the time you read this, I'll be long gone. It's been fun, I admit, but it was never meant to last. Our relationship was a hollow empty shell, and I've moved on. I don't need you anymore. I'm not the girl I used to be before you, and I thank you for that. Without you, I would never have met the love of my life. _

_By now, we'll be long out of Corus, and by the time you can organize any search, we'll be far out of reach. _

_You enjoyed us while we lasted, Jon, but we've had enough._

_Love,_

_Kel and Thayet_

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><p><strong>Incurious<strong>

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Thayet makes an uninteresting discovery.

Thayet is not a stupid woman. She knows that her husband the king is unfaithful, but she had always expected it. Jonathan had never had difficulty in finding someone to warm his bed in his youth, and she hardly expected him to curb his ways now that they were set into his character.

What might be surprising, however, is that Thayet doesn't mind. It leaves her guiltless and free to take lovers of her own, usually the young knights, and induce a particular brand of loyalty. It amuses her, and after more than two decades as Queen of Tortall, little amuses her anymore.

As long as they were both discreet, not even the gossip-mongers could come up with a credible story of royal infidelity.

In fact, Thayet is so incurious about Jon's latest lover that when she sees a slightly-mussed Keladry of Mindelan leaving Jon's secret assignation room, she hardly bats an eye.

She can hardly blame his excellent taste, after all, and Thayet smiles a secretive smile as she strolls to meet one Anders of Mindelan.

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><p><strong>The Blame Game<strong>

Rating: PG-13

Summary: It's someone else's fault. It must be. Rating for implied sex.

The first time, they blamed it on the thrill of the moment. With the adrenaline rushing through their veins, neither of them realized what happened until the deed was done. They swore never to speak of the unthinkable.

The second time, it was the fault of the wine. Undiluted, it hazed the senses and made simply terrible ideas seem not only possible, but seemingly vital.

The third time, they had to turn to the divine to find a scapegoat. They muttered oaths to the Crooked God, for who but the Trickster could devise such a scheme?

The fourth time, they simply shrugged their shoulders. It was getting too difficult to find an appropriate excuse. Then the king brightened and declared that they must blame Gary, for he must have laced their tea with some nefarious substance that caused them to sleepwalk. Kel decided that this was a perfectly reasonable excuse.

The fifth time, Kel made a paltry attempt at assigning blame, but it fell flat, so Jon and Kel decided that finding a reason required too much time and energy that could be used for other, more pleasurable activities.

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><p><strong>The Room<strong>  
>Rating: PG-13<br>Summary: A room jealously guards its secret.

The room looked just like any other. A bit dusty, perhaps. Certainly more abandoned than most, being in an old part of the royal palace, but a room nonetheless.

Occasionally a person might wander in, drop off a bit of rubbish, and wander away.

Yet the room was not like any random room. It held a secret, and it held the secret jealously.

It was a secret of passion, of defiance, of sorrow and shame, of love and lust and longing as two star-crossed individuals stumbled into the refugee.

The room held a place of comfort for the sad king and the lonely knight, the tired blue eyes that gained a spark of life when they beheld the brown head and the scarred hands of the woman.

Yes, the room seemed identical to the numerous others just like it.

But those rooms held no secrets of their own.


	3. Mixed Temptations

Note: A bonus for everyone, all rated PG with one soft R. These are all prompts related to biochemistry. Because I am a nerd.

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><p><strong>1. Regulation (Protein)<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: Protein regulation: The signalling by an increase or decrease in specific proteins that causes the increase or decrease of a specific process.

Neither of them were quite sure when the fire was gone.

Perhaps they simply woke up in bed one night and felt no more than a sincere affection for the other, as a raging fire is immediately snuffed out with a sudden loss of oxygen. Perhaps it was simply a loving affair that waned so slightly that one could not tell a difference from day to day, but was imminently obvious over time, like the waning of the moon.

Theirs had been a passionate love, to be sure, and perhaps it had been so passionate that their bodies and minds simply could take no more and cried out, "Enough!"

Jon felt a creeping guilt for having sullied Kel's honor, having besmirched her reputation with a royal love affair. Kel simply mourned the loss of something wonderful, and hated herself for being so fickle, yet again.

As it was, theirs was a remarkably amicable separation, though no less painful than the bitterest of divorces, as both mourned their lack of constancy and wished for what they could not give to the other.

* * *

><p><strong>2. Regulation (Allosteric)<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: Allosteric Regulation: Regulation of an enzyme by the addition or withdrawal of a substance (protein, enzyme, amino acid, atom) in an area other than the active site, causing the active site to physically alter, thus changing what can and cannot fit into the active site.

Kel admired Queen Thayet. She truly was a marvelous person, kind, thoughtful, realistic though royal. She had hired Lalasa, pushed for woman's rights, especially commoner women, and Kel could think nothing bad of the beautiful queen.

It was possible that Kel envied her somewhat, for being in a position to change lives for the better, for being Peerless in every possible way.

Thus it was that Kel sought out Thayet when she felt the prickling sensation on her skin and the warmth in her belly whenever she felt the king's gaze on her. Kel wasn't sure if her body warned her or signaled for something different, something that would make her life very difficult. She truly did not need to shoulder an unrequited love on top of her myriad of burdens.

So Kel and Thayet became good friends, being both strong women with a desire to assist those less fortunate, and Kel avoided thinking about her friend's husband in any way other than as the monarch.

* * *

><p><strong>3. Futile Cycle<strong>  
>Rating: R<br>Summary: Futile Cycle: A cyclic process in which a molecule of ATP is broken down into ADP and a phosphate group, ie. a high energy molecule is broken down into middle and low energy molecules, for the purpose of converting one substance into another. Rating for implied mind-games, angst, creepy!Jon.

Kel had heard the rumors about the king.

They were murmured under breaths, hidden within other words, but the truth was there for people who desired to know.

After Kel felt the king's eyes falling upon her with a strange heat in his eyes one too many times, Kel searched for and found that terrible truth.

King Jonathan, it was whispered, had a penchant for taking vivacious young women and leaving them older, dispirited, lax. Not that he did anything _illegal_, the teller of the tale always amended hastily. Rather, he was found of introducing the fluttery ladies to something more real - more sinister, they wanted to say but feared to - than their silly court games, and not all delicate court flowers could withstand such revelations.

More than one daughter had been withdrawn under mysterious conditions.

Sickened, Kel took the next available post as far away from Corus as possible, far away from those searching blue eyes with a hint of madness.

* * *

><p><strong>4. Hydrolysis<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: Hydrolysis: The chemical reaction that splits apart a molecule using water.

She was drowning, Kel was dimly aware, drowning in deep blue eyes reminiscent of the coast off the Yamani Isles, so clearly blue that one could see all the way down to the very bottom.

She drew a labored breath, but her heart beat so fiercely that it was only a half-breath, and she counted herself lucky that she could breathe at all in the ocean of roiling emotions in his eyes that reflected her own.

Part of her mind retained its sanity. It questioned at first, then spoke up with greater and greater alarm, until finally it beat helplessly against the larger, enthralled portion of her mind. This sane part brought up duty, honor, the Code of Chivalry, that this action could only lead to breaking every vow she had ever made.

The drowning part of her mind paid no heed. It could not spare even a moment of distraction away from Jon's eyes, eyes that offered salvation even as they left her floating adrift.

* * *

><p><strong>5. Lactic Acid<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: Lactic Acid: The end result of anaerobic oxidation (glycolysis), the process by which it is created is used to regenerate 2 NAD+ per one molecule of pyruvate, and is one of the factors causing acidosis in muscles after exercise.

Jon groaned in pleasure as Kel's strong hands kneaded his shoulders, tense after a long day hunched over dry reports. "Never wonder why I married you, Kel," he sighed. "It was for your hands."

"Liar," she replied, amused. "You married me for my impeccable fashion sense."

He spun around in his chair and pulled her into his lap. "And why did you marry me? For my amazing good looks, or my silver tongue?" he whispered into her lips as they greeted after a day's separation.

Kel eventually pulled back slightly, just far enough away to remark drolly, "Neither, dear. It was your stunning humility."

* * *

><p><strong>6. Glycogen Synthase<strong>  
>Rating: PG<br>Summary: Glycogen Synthase: An enzyme in the pathway that produces glycogen (stored energy), glycogen synthase creates the alpha 1-4 bonds from one glucose-1-phosphate to the next.

"Excellent work, Keladry," the king says absently as he glances through her thorough report. "As usual, very excellent indeed." He glances up at her with jewel-like eyes that catch the light and toss it back into her own, along with the light reflecting off his pearl-white teeth as he smiles at her.

Kel inclines her head and bows, taking the moment to breathe and regain her composure, as she always does when Jon - as she refers to him in her mind, guiltily and jealously - catches her eyes with his.

As Kel turns to leave, Jon has already moved on to the next bit of paper, the next issue that only the king may solve, but he throws out a few idle words that seem to her to be diamonds discovered in refuse.

"I can always count on you, Lady Knight. Keep up the good work."

She nods and bows again as she mentally clasps the words to her chest and embeds them in her mind, two tiny moments carefully hoarded along with the others.


End file.
